


Elven - The Witcher and The Inheritance Cycle Crossover

by Ember626



Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini, The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Character Study, Crossover, Dragons, Elves, F/M, Half-Elves, I just really love elves, Inspired by The Witcher, Paolini Elves vs Sapkowski Elves, The Inheritance Cycle, This might turn into a dnd party, but hey thats fun too, no one writes about the inheritance cycle enough, world swapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:00:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23148154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ember626/pseuds/Ember626
Summary: An evening of reading under the trees of Du Weldenvarden turns into a baffling encounter, and the start of an adventure to find home.I noticed that elves in The Inheritance Cycle and The Witcher are pretty different, and are treated pretty differently too. This is my exploration of what would happen were one to go into another's world.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So after I binge-watched The Witcher in a day, I was thinking about the elves in The Witcher and elves in The Inheritance Cycle, and while they have some similarities, they’re treated very differently in their respected universes. So, I thought it might be kind of interesting to put an Inheritance Cycle elf into The Witcher world and see how it went. Stay tuned for some sword fighting, magic, and hopefully some really well-written dialogue. (We'll see about that last one)

While it wasn’t unusual for the towering trees of Du Weldenvarden to become silent from time to time, it was unusual for them to quiet so quickly. The elf sitting under their cool shade looked up suddenly, as all sound seemed to flee from the area. Closing her eyes, and stretching out her consciousness, she sensed each pinprick of life racing far and fast away from the clearing. Birds scattered from the clearing, winging away on updrafts deeper into the forest. She shut her tome with a thud and tucked it back into her bag and stood quickly. A glance around only revealed tall grass, dappled shadows, and the usual ancient tree trunks.

She took two steps back, eyeing her surroundings warily. Although she grew up amongst these trees, it was always best to be on guard. She put her hand on the trunk next to her, stepping behind it. Another two paces and a curious sensation washed over her. A chill, the temperature of which was only rivaled by the most turbulent, coldest parts of the Gaena river, passed over her entire body. She shuddered, then froze. Her ears flicked back as a growl sounded from the trees in the distance, rumbling through the air so loudly she could almost see the wave of sound hit her. A cold breeze picked up, blowing the tall grass flat. The sky darkened, and she started to run. Whatever was happening here stank of magic, and the usual warm and sunlit feeling that encapsulated her when she reached for it was absent here.

“What in Gilderian’s name--?”

A wave of smell hit her, causing her eyes to water. She picked up blood and metal, sweat and something foul. She continued her breakneck pace, trying to outrun it, leaping from tree root to tree root. The tree trunks became slimmer and younger, as they did towards the edge of Du Weldenvarden, which she was nowhere near. She stopped short, nearly tripping as her next anticipated foothold on a tree root twisted in on itself and shrank down. Her booted feet hit the ground with a thud that flattened the grass. A wide clearing was visible through the thinning tree line and backed up to a craggy overhang. She could hear screeching, howling, and the unmistakable sound of metal singing through the air.

 _The bravery of whoever this fool is, to attack a creature in this forest_ , she thought.

She approached, darting behind a tree. Peering around the edge, she could see a large, insect looking creature with a humped and pitted abdomen, too many legs to count, maw open and dripping dark green fluid, rushing at a well-built man. The overhang behind them already bore deep gouges and was pockmarked with some caustic fluid. Evidently, the fight was brutal and had been going for some time. Panting with effort, the man ducked to the side, avoiding a potentially fatal wound as the creature’s pincers closed right where he was a moment before. He heaved his sword in a large arc, nearly lopping off an entire leg of the creature.

What sort of mistake of nature is this--? Unnerved, the elf crouched and moved forward. Ducking behind a fallen tree, presumably a casualty of the fight, it did not seem to be going well for the man. His black leathers were tattered and torn and appeared to be favoring his right side as if his left were paining him. He parried to the side, and the oozing pincers shot out towards him, intent on maiming him.

Before considering if it was smart or not, she shouted “Jierda hamarr!”

Her hand outstretched towards the stone crag above them as she directed the flow of energy into the rock. Immediately, it shook and cracked, and a large, boulder-sized piece broke off and was thrust to the ground. The chunk of rock landed on the creature with a wet squelch, narrowly missing the man. Twisted and segmented legs stuck out from under the rock, seeping a dark viscous liquid. The man turned to her, sword raised, breath heaving. His eyes swept over her face, before focusing on her ears. He stepped forward, then moved with such speed that she was caught off guard. Barely managing to clear his blow, she pulled her own blade from its place at her side. She raised it to meet his strike, and then the next. Behind both was a strength that surprised her. It kept her on the defense.

“Why--” she grunted and warded off a blow, “are you attacking me!” She met his next maneuver with one of her own. Thrusting her weight forward she used the hilt of her sword to redirect his to the side.

He only growled back at her, not responding. His previously frenzied attacks grew slower and his swings less controlled. She was lucky to have caught him at the end of the fight with the creature, she noted, otherwise she wasn’t sure she’d be able to beat him.

She sidestepped a particularly strong strike that blew back strands of her dark hair with the speed of it. Her brows creased with concentration as she stumbled backward. “Huildr dauthleikr,” she muttered.

Mid-swing, the man stopped. His jaw worked as he tugged at his arms, but they were stuck fast mid-air. He made another low sound and his glare darkened even further. She took another step back for good measure, sword held loosely in her hand at her side. She could feel her energy draining as he struggled against the spell but it held fast.

“Now,” she said, “maybe you will listen, stone-ears!” The man’s eyebrows rose, and her eye caught on a medallion around his neck. The sky was still dark and stormy so the shape of it was obscured, but it looked vaguely animalistic. “My aim may have been faulty but it was not my intent to harm you! You should be grateful I was here to rescue you from that-- creature!”

The man made as if to respond, but only a choked sound escaped his mouth.

“Swear you won’t retaliate as soon as I let the spell go, and I’ll release you.”

He seemed to sag slightly, or as much as he could with the spell holding him in place. She watched him for a moment and waited. “Ganga galdr,” she eventually said under her breath. His arm came down to his side, but his grip on his weapon was still turning his knuckles white. She eyed his white hair curiously, along with his unusually bright amber eyes. She reevaluated her settlement on his race as human.

He cleared his throat and asked tersely, “What are you doing so far South of the Blue Mountains?”

She paused, wracking her brain for any location with the name of or resembling “Blue Mountains”. She had studied geography extensively, but the name was a mystery to her, as was the reason he was seeking for her being there, apparently.

She raised her chin and said cooly, “I have never heard of such a place nor have any reason to be in any location but the one I choose. Do you have an excuse for trespassing in Du Weldenvarden?”

The man seemed to mull it over for a moment. “I do not, as we are in the forests surrounding Temeria, not… whatever name you just called this place.” Another name she did not know. She was growing frustrated, and more confused by the minute. Their conversation felt as though they were off balance, and as if one of them should know something they did not. She swept her gaze around rapidly, then stepped towards a nearby tree. If there was one identifying mark of Du Weldenvarden it was the trees, and their slow, languid consciousnesses. The man watched her warily as she placed her hand on the bark and closed her eyes, reaching out for the essence of the tree. While the tree was innately comforting, it bore no familiarity as the trees of Du Weldenvarden did. She cast her mind out, reaching for any signs of life or Sílthrim, the city that was supposed to be nearby. Aside from her, the mind of the man in front of her, and a faint sense from the creature pinned under the rock, there was nothing.

She inhaled sharply and whirled back around to face the man. “It appears something strange has occurred. I can neither sense my home nor anything familiar. Was this anything of your doing?”

The man scratched his stubbled chin. “No. It wasn’t anything I did.”

Her expression tightened. “Well, seeing as neither you or I have answers, where is the nearest city? Perhaps someone of more competence will be there.”

He hesitated and glanced behind him. “We are south of the capital of Temeria, but I would warn you, they have a tendency to react badly to elves.”

She glared. “Then I will conceal myself.”

“Do what you want,” he said. He started towards the beast trapped under the rock. She watched him mutely for a minute. He lifted it and she raised an eyebrow. Reaching under, he severed the pincers off the creature with his sword. They oozed as he placed them into a bag at his side and straightened, dropping the stone with a dull boom.  
He grunted when he still saw her standing there. “You’re still here.”

At this comment, she saw no more purpose in staying. This man clearly did not have the information or help she needed. She’d have to look elsewhere. She stepped a few feet away and sat at the base of a tree. For what she wanted to do, she’d need to place the words of the spell inside a melody. If she was to be traveling near humans for an extended period of time, she would need to use a more permanent disguise. She started to sing softly, letting the tune carry the magic and weave it around her, much like she would if she were singing a plant.

Slowly, her slanted eyes leveled, her cheekbones became less pronounced, her eyes dulled in shape, and her arched eyebrows lowered. She ran her fingers over her face, frowning. It was uncomfortable to alter her features in such a way but it was necessary for the moment. She glanced up and met the eyes of the man across the clearing. He seemed to be packing up his supplies onto a horse that she hadn’t noticed. She warily glanced up as she picked up her satchel from the ground. Not much was in it, but if the city of Temeria was as close as the man claimed it to be, she could stock up there. Uncertain whether to acknowledge the man or not, she turned and left, bounding through the trees quickly and quietly.

_This is madness. Complete, incomprehensible madness._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me a while to write, DIALOGUE IS SO DIFFICULT! Let me know how you like it!

Although the man had told her the city was a day’s walk north, she found herself arriving much sooner than anticipated. It was mid-afternoon, meaning the city gates were bustling with people moving in and out. She had no cloak and no hood to conceal herself with, and so just stepped onto the road leading into the city. The smell made her wrinkle her nose. She didn’t spend too much time with humans usually, and never in numbers this large. Wagons rolled past her, filled with produce, textiles, and other materials.

_Must be a large trade city,_ she thought. _At least there’s a chance I could find someone helpful in a place this large._

The city sat on the shores of a large lake and from far away it looked like any other small human city she’d seen. Narrow streets wound between small, mostly wood houses with small windows. A black flag with three white lilies fluttered in the wind, bringing some respite to the stench. Just outside the walls seemed to be a place for boats to dock, and another gate people were passing through. She turned her head and watched carefully, as other scents hit her nose. Not human scents. The people around her were eyeing the traffic going in and out of the other gate warily. Behind her, a few traders murmured among themselves and cast disparaging glances towards the people going into the gate by the dike.

“No good--”  
  


“Why do we even have a place for those freaks?”  
  


“Unnatural, that’s what they are.”

At this, she abandoned the brief idea she had to join the others. Maybe there would be an elf amongst them who could help her, or at the very least explain what had happened to her. It seemed unwise to put herself on the bad side of the humans, if this was a mainly human city. And it would waste the energy she had poured into her disguise. It itched, and she wished for her normal features back. 

By now, she had almost reached the city gates. Guards posted on either side scanned the travellers entering, stopping the occasional person for questioning. She ducked her head. Human as she may appear, she didn’t want her face to be remembered. She got through the gates without issue before realizing she had no idea where to go. Someone brushed by her roughly, bumping her shoulder and jostling her bag. She looked down into it, noting the lack of any real provisions or travel supplies. 

_First, to a market._

There didn’t seem to be an obvious layout to the city, much less any helpful signs. Sighing, she turned to someone walking near her, a human man with red hair and a ruddy complexion. 

“Pardon, sir.”

His eyes darted towards her, eyebrows raised. “Yes?”

“I’m looking for somewhere to replenish my supplies and I’ve never been here before,” she said. “Could you point me in the direction of a market of some sort?

“Aye, I can. I’m headed there now, could probably just walk you there,” he said. 

“I’d appreciate it, thank you.”

He started uphill on the main drag, walking quickly. She kept the pace easily, taking in the wood and plaster houses that lined the street.

“I’m Gil. Do you have a name?” 

She hesitated. Her idea had been to keep her head down so there would be no chance of recognizing her should she decide to change her features back to their original state, but it felt rude to not offer him a name. Her own name might sound foreign and unusual in this area, and she feared scrutiny if she told him the truth. An alias, then. 

“I’m called Katrina,” she said. Taking the name of Eragon Shadeslayer’s sister-in-law seemed a bit presumptuous, but she had met the copper-haired lady when she had visited Ellesméra and took a liking to the force of her gaze and bearing. 

Gil acknowledged this with a nod, and the two continued walking. 

They reached a large stone-paved square around ten minutes later. Stalls were set up in rows and clumps, and musicians played from among the merchant’s parcels, packages, and various crates. It was lively, and Gil had to lean closer to be audible.

“This is the main marketplace! On this side,” he gestured, “is Tanner’s Square, and the other is Salt Square! You’ll probably find traveling supplies in Salt Square!” He had to shout above the calls of various merchants and the general bustle of the area.

She nodded and shouted back, “Thank you! I think I’ll find my own way now!”

He raised an arm in farewell and disappeared into the crowd to do his own business. She pushed through the throngs of people, searching for any stalls selling travelling rations or cloaks. Clay jars with odd markings and smells caught her eye on one side, bright cloth and glittering beads dazzled her from the other. She kept going, scanning from side to side. Eventually, she happened across what she needed by listening to the various calls of the merchants, which was much less overwhelming than the various smells, heat, and crush of people. 

A fair-skinned man with even lighter hair flapped his arms about, calling out, “Rations, rope, herbs, you name it we have it! Rations, rope-- oh hello there.” He eyed her with sharp beady eyes as she approached.

“Greetings, I am in need of rations and any medicinal herbs should you carry them.”

“Oh ho-oh, of course, m’lady.” He waved an arm, gesturing to the rows of leather-wrapped ration packs and herbs. She glanced over them, fingers hovering.

“I need one without meat.” 

One overly scrawny eyebrow raised. “Without-- er, without meat. Ye want one without meat.”

She nodded. The man looked over the bags, then shook his head. “I’ve dried meat in every packet. Buy one full price and take out the meat yerself.”

She nodded again, more slowly. “Alright. What will it cost?”

“Two oren.”

“Two-- two _what?_ ”

The merchant frowned and waved two fingers in her face. “Two oren. If you don’t got ‘em, ‘fraid I can’t do business.”

She rifled through her bag. _Botany book, no, parchment, no-- aha!_

She held out two gold coins to the merchant. His eyebrows shot up to his forehead.

“Ah- um, yes good. Very good. Here’s your rations, good day!” He hurriedly shoved two ration packs at her, took the coins, and spun around back into the depths of the stall. She was left standing slightly stunned, ration packs in hand. She stepped back slowly and began to retrace her steps back through the city.

She needed help. Someone with magical capabilities. But she had no idea where to even begin the search for such a person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do a ton of research on the currency in both universes because I completely forgot that it would probably come into play at some point. Apparently The Witcher has a ton of different types, how does anyone even trade with each other?? That's so much exchanging to do!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I found a time to write in between schoolwork, so here's a short update to the story! Thanks for the kudos, and feel free to leave comments if there's something about the Witcher/Eragon universe you think I missed.

As it turned out, the elf, alias Katrina, would not make any progress on finding someone with sufficient magical abilities to aid her for some time. The sun shone in through the threadbare drapes of her room at the inn. Dust particles drifted through the air, as did the smell of ale and cooking meat. Wrinkling her nose, she sat up. Her legs were stiff with inaction, arms sore from boredom. In three days, the only whiff of capable magic she could find was a royal advisor to the king of the city, a woman by the name of Triss Merigold. 

Katrina hadn’t the faintest idea of how to approach her, or even if it was acceptable for a strange traveler to approach a court mage. However, she decided, staying put in an inn wouldn’t make the task any easier. Locking the door to her room behind her, Katrina carefully walked down the stairs without a sound. She was attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible, hood down but cloak wrapped tight around her, walking quickly enough not to be approached but slow enough that she didn’t appear panicked.

The streets were bustling with people and the occasional cart. The stone-hewed houses and leaned against one another and cast a shadow onto the crowds below. Katrina had taken to walking to the market each day, ears open for any possible gossip on unusual magical activity or mention of Triss Merigold. 

Today, she was in luck. Pretending to pursue a few skeins of dyed wool, her ears pricked slightly as two men spoke amongst themselves nearby. Guards, by the look of it. 

“--she didn’t even ask for payment for healin’ the girl!”

“Don’t be an idiot, Greeves. She probably took something. Them mages, they’re sneaky like that.”

“Who’s calling me an--”

Katrina tuned out. The term “mage” was relatively unused in Alagaësia, the closest term she could think of was “sorcerer.” People who harnessed spirits to gain power, sometimes even turned into Shades.

_ Stars above, I hope not. I do not need to deal with a sorcerer. _

She glanced around. This early in the morning, the crowds were thin as people began their day. Her eyes unfocused as she reached out her consciousness, finding the two dim sparks of the guard’s minds. They had no defenses up and didn’t even pause in their conversation as she slipped in and began searching for any more information on Triss Merigold. Images of a long street ending in a small square flashed behind her eyes. A tall house, wood, definitely not of completely human design, standing tall at the corner. She was about to quietly extract herself from their thoughts before someone rammed into her shoulder. 

She stumbled and lost her balance, and an arm shot out to keep her from falling completely. A quick glance at the guards revealed one shaking his head, hand rubbing his temples. He looked around, startled, and their eyes met. 

She shook off whoever had been helping her regain her balance, and dove into the crowds. They were getting thicker, but nowhere near enough to completely lost a guard native to the city. Katrina took a deep breath. For all that guard knew, she had just accidentally met his gaze. No confirmed illegal activity from that. 

She squared her shoulders and forced herself to walk slower, towards the Trades Quarter where she would hopefully find that tall wood house, and Triss Merigold inside.

~~~

The rough cobblestone streets faded into paved stone, swept free of dirt. The houses were taller and better constructed with touches of what Katrina could  _ swear _ were elvish architecture. The streets in this part of the city were emptier, and the people who walked them darted their eyes over her attire with wary glances. 

The house on the corner, the one belonging to Triss Merigold, was indeed nice. Nothing like the elegant, wood-sung houses of  Sílthrim, but nice. Just as she had seen in the guard’s head, it was positioned on the corner of a small square that opened up before her. A statue plinth stands in the middle, with no statue in sight.

_ Odd.  _ She shrugged it off.

She approached the house and extended her consciousness outward. A possibly dangerous endeavor if these mages could sense the touch of a mind, but she did not need any unwelcome surprises today. Only flickers of light answered her mind, most likely from the insects and animals nearby. No mage. 

Katrina frowned, annoyed. There wasn’t much she could do if the mage wasn’t home, and Katrina considered herself above breaking in. A stone wall surrounded the property, covered in ivy and other creeping plants. She tilted her head back to catch a glimpse of the flowers growing on the vines, and frowned again. 

_ Nightsbane, Verbena, and Wolfsbane _ , she thought. 

She was certain that these plants were  _ not _ naturally growing here, in such proximity to each other. From her brief lessons with Leodin, the herbalist, she knew they had particularly special effects. She stepped back from where she had been leaning on the wall and craned her neck, only to see more flowers, bushes, and vines that she hadn’t the faintest idea to identify.

Katrina had just started to run through a list of plant features in her head to puzzle them out when a voice spoke out from behind her.

“Can I help you with something?”   
  


She jumped. Distracted as she was by the flowers, she hadn’t sensed the woman walk up behind her. Katrina turned around, hazel eyes meeting cornflower blue.

“Yes-- Yes you might be able to,” she replied. 

Triss nodded and opened the iron gate with a small push. “In that case, come in.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm back with an update! I got to do some research on magic in The Witcher, so that was fun. Hope you like it, and hopefully, updates will be more frequent since I'm out of school now.

The interior of the house was tall, with elegant curtains sweeping the floor where the wind blew in from the windows. Through an archway in the entry hall was a well-stocked kitchen with various aromatic herbs hanging from the ceiling in bunches. On the other side of the entry hall, Katrina glimpsed deep-seated couches with velvet cushions situated in front of a grand fireplace that sparked to life with a snap of Triss Merigold’s fingers.

She walked into the kitchen, setting down the basket she had been carrying with what looked like goods from the marketplace and several flowers. Katrina trailed in after her, taking note of several bottles filled with powders, liquids, and something that looked like a jar of  _ beetles _ . The hair on Katrina’s arms rose. The entire room tingled with magic.

The bright morning light that came in through the unshuttered window gleamed in Triss’ eyes. Katrina tucked her arms into each other. 

“So,” said Triss, “what brings you to Vizima?” Her accent was unusual, Katrina noticed. 

“Travel,” Katrina said. Triss began to bustle around the counter, putting away various containers and goods.

Triss hummed in what appeared to be skepticism but didn’t say anything about it. “And why are you here?”

“I thought you might be able to help me.”

“I’ll assume with something magical-- hold this.” Triss shoved a bundle of dried herbs into Katrina’s arms, then reached up to untie another.

Katrina nodded. She didn’t dare reach out her mind again, not knowing if Triss could sense it or not or if she would consider it an invasion of privacy. 

She shifted the bundle in her arms, saying, “It is a rather odd story if you have a moment for me to tell it.”

“Let me put these away first, since you caught me in a busy moment. I was supposed to finish some potions after my trip to the market, but I suppose it can wait.” Triss finished untying all the herbs and dusted her hands. Taking the bundles from Katrina, she took them over to a low wooden box and placed them inside with other bundles. Triss removed the scarf from her hair, pulling it off as she walked out of the kitchen and gestured for Katrina to follow. She did.

Triss took a seat in a deep blue armchair by the fire, shaking out her skirts and settling in. “Now, have a cup of tea, and tell me.”

Katrina looked to the side table, where a kettle and two teacups suddenly appeared, the scent of hot fragrant tea wafting towards her. The room smelled dusty and warm, and she felt her ears almost twitch in annoyance at the sound of Triss scraping her chair closer to the fire.

She cleared her throat. “You can call me Katrina. I am in need of a form of magical transportation, or some explanation of an event that happened a fortnight ago.” 

Triss studied her for a moment before saying, “You have magic. I can sense it around you. Why not do it yourself?”

Katrina blew a breath out, frustrated. “Magic does not work the same here, and the words do not even exist to do what I want to do.  _ I  _ do not even have the words to explain what I want to do.” Reaching for her tea, she continued, “I am not of this world. From one vaguely like it, perhaps, but I was not born here and magic is… different here. From what I’ve seen.”

The other woman leaned forward, frowning. “And how can there be other worlds, separated from ours, after the Conjunction of the Spheres?” Seeing Katrina’s perplexed look, she explained, “The Conjunction was eons ago when worlds lived parallel to each other. Then, some cataclysmic event joined them, trapping monsters, elves, dwarves, and all manner of strange species here.”

Katrina processed this for a moment. If this were true, her world might have escaped this  _ conjunction. _ Maybe she had slipped through a minuscule cut in the very fabric of time and space left in her world, and into this one? The look on her face must have been troubled because Triss refilled her cup of tea. Katrina hadn’t realized she had been sipping it. 

“I’m guessing you want to move between these spheres, these worlds, with magical aid?”

“If-- If that is even possible, yes I would like that very much,” Katrina managed. 

“I am uncertain that such a thing can be done. I have never heard of mages moving between these worlds, or even if any of these worlds still exist to move between. I certainly have never attempted such a feat.” 

Katrina rose to her feet quickly. “There must be some way. I cannot stay here forever. There must be some store of energy large enough to attempt it.” She whirled around, facing a still seated Triss. “You said  _ mages _ , is there an order of these casters? They must have relics that they have been filling with energy, ones I could use.”

Triss squinted up at her. “I have no idea what you’re referring to. How would they  _ store _ energy? We simply use it, then tire, then wait until we have regenerated our personal stores.”

Katrina stalled.  _ Magic is different here, _ she had to remember that. Apparently they didn’t even use gems or anything of the like to store energy. Maybe they had not advanced to that point yet with their magic.

_ Which would make sense, if their magic users are all sorcerers and mages who require scrolls and spells instead of possessing instinctual magic,  _ she thought. She tugged a hand through her hair, detangling a few knots roughly. Her disguised ears itched, her eyes felt dull and she wished that she could revert her features just for a moment. Katrina disregarded the notion quickly as unwise.

Triss seemed to sense her agitation, and said, “Well, if there is one mage mad enough to attempt it, it would be Yennefer of Vengerburg.”

“Where can I find her?” she asked.

“Yennefer often wanders where she sees fit, stays in a place long enough to enjoy it, then leaves as soon as it grows old in her mind.”   
  
“Then  _ how  _ do I find her?” If convincing a mad mage to help her return home was what it would take, then she would do it. She already ached to see the towering trees of Du Weldenvarden, hear the singing of the birds over the Ardwen as she canoed across it, and smell the sweet scent of the honeysuckle in the heat of summer. She closed her eyes for a moment, composing herself. 

“The Witcher, Geralt of Rivia. I have long suspected they have a connection that exceeds all sense, and always seem to find each other. Stay with him for long enough and Yennefer will be sure to appear eventually.” Triss stood as she spoke. Picking up the tray with the now cold kettle and tea, she started walking back to the kitchen. 

Katrina stared after her. “Alright, well how do I find  _ him _ ?” This was beginning to feel like a game or scavenger hunt. Apparently any possibility of returning home rested with people who may or may not be locatable or willing to help. 

From the kitchen, Triss called out, “I heard he was sighted near the fringes of Temeria, a few days South of here. You’ll be able to locate him by listening for his bard, Jaskier. I hear there isn’t much that will silence him.”

Katrina picked up a stray saucer that Triss had missed and brought it to the kitchen. Jaskier, Geralt, then Yennefer. She silently mouthed their names. Three people her fate might rest with. 

Triss took the saucer from her and added to the pile by the basin on the counter. She gestured to a few paper-wrapped packages she had taken from the cupboards sitting next to it. “I have a few rations if you have need of them. You seem like you’ll be a very interesting tale to tell one day, and you need to not starve to tell it.”

Katrina’s sharp nose picked up the scent of travel biscuits and something grain-like. No meat. She accepted the packages and gave Triss a hesitant smile. “Thank you. For the information and tea.”

“Of course. Now, off you go, I have a whole order of potions to finish before morning. Good luck!”

Katrina was ushered out the door, handed her packages, then listened to it shut behind her. She stood on the porch of the wooden house, feeling at least like she knew what steps she had to take. 

_ Far better than sitting at an inn for days. Now, where in Gilderian’s name do I find Geralt of Rivia? _


End file.
